


Welcome to the Academy

by FenyxNyteRyder



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - X-Men Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other, POV Multiple, Possible Character Death, Superpowers, mild insanity, pain and blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenyxNyteRyder/pseuds/FenyxNyteRyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mutants are everywhere; most humans choose to hate them while others choose to accept them. Some mutants step out of the shadow and try to become greater, that is what creates a superhero or reside at "The Academy" where they can live peacefully and hone their powers under the protection of the chairman. Others still choose a darker path...</p>
<p>The government views mutants as threats to national security and will often abduct mutants to use as experiments in secret labs, or turn them into weapons. However, is it possible to reconcile the relations between mutants and humans? Will members of the government change their views of the mutants? Or will tensions escalate and spark a war between human and mutant-kind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arthur

Arthur Kirkland had always been different.

For as long as he remembered – no, before that, even. People would whisper _‘Freak’_ , _‘Weirdo’_ whenever he walked by.

He grew up in an orphanage, unwanted, disliked, ridiculed. He wasn’t even looked at once, let alone twice. Arthur took to sitting alone in his room, staring out of the window, clenching and unclenching his fists as if it would do some good.

By the time Arthur was ten he was used to the pain, the name calling, the _'You don’t want that one, he’s a freak, the other children are delightful, pick one of the nice ones instead.’_ He’d grown to feel sick at the sight of the place, almost scared to step foot out of his bedroom. His room was his sanctuary, but even then, nobody would ever knock. They wouldn’t even let him have a lock.

At fifteen, his life changed – probably for the worse, although Arthur had always been somewhat of a pessimist. The orphanage was glad to be rid of his sorry face, and he was glad to be rid of theirs. He was told they could fix him. That’s what they said. They would help the pain go away.

A strange sort of queasiness twisted in his stomach. Were they really going to let him be rid of it? He’d grown so used to it – did he even want it gone? No, of course he did, he wanted to be normal.

Shuffling awkwardly in his seat, he fiddled anxiously with his sleeves, pulling them down past his wrists so they covered the tips of his fingers - A habit he didn’t quite remember gaining. Nobody had said a word since they came in the morning, and the young Brit wondered when they were to arrive.

Night fell like a blanket over them, and Arthur slipped into an uncomfortable daze, where he was half asleep and half aware of his surroundings. His head continued to drop, occasionally jerking upright whenever the car made a sharp turn or hit a particularly hard bump. Something about these people – the way they hardly spoke, they acted as if he wasn’t even there, it was normal for him – but it made him feel odd. They’d cuffed him, too, they said it was for his own safety.

A sudden, large jolt forced him awake, his eyes darted around wildly before blinking with confusion. The driver, whatever his name was, cursed loudly, slamming his foot on the pedal.

“Wh-What’s going on?” Arthur asked, but again, he wasn’t answered. “Hey! Listen to me!” Arthur tugged at the metal around his wrists, suddenly feeling strangely more confined within them.

Something began to twist angrily in his chest, leaving his breathing heavy and his head pounding ruthlessly in his skull. The driver jerked the car around again, and Arthur caught a glimpse of something strange. It was… a person? Were they about to hit a person?! Something crashed and all he could hear over the shouting and crashing was his own heart beating wildly.

When he looked again out of the window, he didn’t see a person, but… an animal? His vision was too blurry to see properly, but it certainly looked as such. Before he could get a better glimpse, the car toppled over and slid head first into a large tree, before everything went completely black.


	2. Matthew

Matthew Williams stretched as he stood in the middle of the white room, adjusting the equipment that was attached to his head as he observed the interactive floating map with different colored dots on it, representing different people, mutant and human alike.  Waving his hand, he moved it so that only the mutants were represented, his eyes widening as he observed one of the lights becoming brighter before flickering.

Matthew’s eyes narrowed slightly; a mutant was in trouble.

Taking note of the location, the blonde quickly powered off the machine and exited the room, heading to his attached bedroom. Going to the closet, he pulled out a black body suit with silver material running down the sides and quickly changing. Pulling on the black combat boots, he tied them up before pressing the button on his ear piece and speaking.

“Agent Beilschmidt, meet me in my office in ten minutes. We have a mission that we need to accomplish. Come prepared for battle. The government’s trying to take another mutant again. Birdie, over and out,” he murmured, pressing the button on the device again as he hurriedly continued his preparations.

He still couldn’t stop using the childish nickname that the Prussian had given him when the other had seen him practicing his flying. The other male was the closest thing to a friend and confidante that the Canadian had, and needless to say, often required his help with the rescue missions that the blonde planned, often on a whim.

Grabbing his long, black trench coat-style jacket and slipping it on, he hurried to his office that was adjacent to his bedroom, the entrance hidden behind a bookcase that he casually moved out of the way using his telekinetic powers. Matthew was not disappointed to see his friend waiting for him, a smile spreading across his lips as he mock-saluted the other.

“We don’t have much time to waste, eh. We’ll have to use my dimensional travel,” he murmured as he became serious again, grasping the shoulder of the other male before closing his eyes and focusing on the location he had seen on the map that revealed the location of the mutant, ignoring any protests that Gilbert may have had or tried to make in the process.

The blonde felt the familiar squeeze as the pair was moved along through the wormhole to their destination before finally feeling his feet touch the ground as they arrived in the forest near the side of a road. It appeared as though they had arrived right on time too, sensing a van driving along the road with what was clearly a mutant in the back, the handcuffs around the mutant’s wrists blocking his power.

Looking out of the corner of his eye at the Prussian beside him, Matthew nodded before walking out into the middle of the road raising his hand and sending a small telekinetic blast of energy at the van as it approached where he was standing, causing the driver to swerve the van away upon impact. The blonde jumped out of the way, cursing under his breath as the vehicle nearly hit him, though he didn’t have much time to think about it because there was another vehicle appearing that had been following the one with the mutant, except this one contained armed guards.

Matthew could vaguely see Gilbert out of the corner of his eye taking care of the problems with the first van. Cracking his knuckles, he splayed his hands in front of him, creating a telekinetic construct to shield both himself, Gilbert, and the young mutant in the van from any of the bullets that the men from the second van were firing at them.

_ This is gonna be a long night…  _


	3. Gilbert

Gilbert Beilschmidt panted as he started to slowly unravel the gauze that was wrapped around his hand, grinning as he walked away from the red, beat up old punching bag he'd dubbed "Roderich's face". He stripped off his sweat coated tank top, revealing a nicely toned chest, along with several faded scars. He swung it over his shoulder along with the gauze as he walked over to a wall of gray lockers, finding his own.

He quickly dialed his combination, the door creaking as he swung it open and pulled out his duffel bag. He stuffed his tank top and the gauze in as he pushed his locker closed and locked it. He tossed the duffel bag on a bench, heaving out an exaggerated, disappointed groan as he rummaged through it, realizing he had forgotten pants. And a clean shirt. Looks like I'm walking across campus like this again. He thought as he zipped his duffel bag closed and swung it over his shoulders, exiting the fitness room.

He almost jumped when he heard Matthew's voice in his ear, shooting out a curse in German. He brought a finger up to the earpiece after the Canadian had finished. "Roger that, Birdie. Captain Awesome over and out. And that's one, by the way, " he replied in his accented English, smirking as he dropped his arm. "Ten minutes." He mused, puffing out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Not a problem." He said as he made his way down the hallway in a quickens stride, the adrenaline already running through his veins at the thought of another mission and more so; at being able to take down some government officials.

He found a broom closet and tossed his duffel bag inside without much thought, tugging lightly on his iron cross out of habit as he took off down the hall in a sprint, his image quickly becoming a blur as his form changed in mid-stride. It want long before he found himself in front of Matthew's office, his feline eyes turning back to their ordinary human form. He casually leaned against the office door as he waited for his companion to arrive, perking up when he heard him approaching from down the hall, a grin spreading across his face, returning the salute he received.

At the other male's words he paled, if at all possible due to his already pale completion. "No, Mattie we can just-" He was quickly cut off when he felt Matthew's hands on his shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the floor disappear from beneath his feet. He hated this. Flying was way more fun.

He let out a long breath when he could once again feel the ground. Gilbert looked around, catching the eye of the Canadian. He took a deep breath, sighing, a smirk tugging in his lips, "Lots of people." The albino said, his crimson eyes aging brightly with mischief, his brows furrow as he concentrated. It was seconds before he saw his view of the work change, letting an echoing roar as he took off full speed towards the first van.

The now tiger pounced on the roof, growling as he saw a man from the door. He could have laughed at the way the man's eyes widened before Gilbert tackled him to the ground. Newbie. He grabbed the man by his suit front and flung him out of the way just hard enough to knock him out, or at least, he hoped he had only done it that hard. The cocking of a gun alerted him and he found several men pointing weapons at him. He shot out a profanity as he jumped to avoid them, it only coming out as a roar. He was pleasantly surprised to see the the bullets had bounced away from him, seeing a slight fizz of purple energy just in front of him.  One bullet in particular ricocheted off the barrier and hit one of the men in the shoulder.

_Here goes nothing._ He thought as his eyes flickered over to Matthew, knowing that the blonde might get upset at him later for doing something reckless. But Gilbert thought that he should be used to it by now.

Gilbert crouched down low, before he leaped at the group of men, knocking two to the ground. He quickly grabbed one of them and threw him at the other. One of the men attempted to regain his weapon, but not before Gilbert grabbed it between his teeth and tossed it to the side of the street.

_ Ugh. Way too much hand sanitizer, this one.  _ He thought as he turned his attention away from the other men that were still left standing, advancing on Matthew.  Gilbert instead turned his attention on the first van that had been stopped and crawled inside, noticing the unconscious blonde-haired male inside.  _ The eyebrow game is strong with this one. _ He couldn't help but think.

He tore away the seat belts the held firm to the young male, grabbing his shirt as gently as he could, pulling him from the van. On doing so successfully, he not so delicately dropped him onto the ground, wincing.  _ Whoops... _ He scooped up the Brit who he balanced on the back of his neck, trotting to the safety at the other side of the road, ducking behind what appeared to be a fruit stand. 


	4. Allistor

Allistor Kirkland impulsively grimaced as yet another twang of pain managed to penetrate him from his thoughts. A small pinch under the skull was all it took to drag him from his reverie, and subsequently bring him back to reality. Either ignoring or entirely oblivious to the unlit cigarette clutched between his teeth, he blinked a few times before lifting his hand to his head, rubbing his index finger over his right temple as if to soothe the oncoming headache.

Allistor took on a sour expression when it worsened. He'd been having headaches a lot more often than not the past few weeks, and whether it was related to his power evolving or just simply stress, he knew he should ask for some medical advice. As much as the idea of asking someone for advice irked him, it was becoming a rather inevitable problem.

He liked to think of himself as resilient, but just like every other breathing being out there, he had his fair share of complicated issues that would - in due time - become too much to handle and thus leave him as a pitiful, vexatious shell of a mutant. What use would he provide if he could do nothing but stand around and look daunting? Absolutely none.

_They'd let ye go for sure..._ Allistor shook himself of his thoughts, wiping the frown from his face simultaneously. He didn't need to be thinking like that, he shouldn't be thinking like that. The Academy has been his sanctuary for the last fifteen or so years, forcing him to leave his own home would be amoral; stupid, almost.

With that as his last thought on such a topic, Allistor shoved a hand into his left breast pocket and pulled out a slightly worn down silver lighter and raised it towards the cig in his mouth. He pressed his thumb over the striker wheel and, against his better judgement, inhaled the unhealthy chemicals as his green eyes glanced over the flickering of the flame. Nearly dropping his lighter, he was slightly perturbed to see that he was no longer standing near his bedroom window, and was now slouching against a wall in a rather undignified ridiculous manner.

His body had subconsciously made its way from his room (of which was currently in tatters, with him being the tidy person he was) towards the place he seemed to know not so much about; the infirmary. While the entire Academy was virtually his own little den, there were definitely places the red haired man hadn't even dreamed of entering, nor would he want to.

The infirmary was, of course, one of these places.

Of all the times he had been admitted--since he wouldn't go willingly, he would have to be unconscious then subsequently strapped down to prevent him from aggravating any of his wounds--, Allistor never found any reason to necessarily like the place. It seemed to always reek of either cleaning chemicals or anesthetics, and he was positive that the smell alone would be enough to make a perfectly healthy persons' eyes dry out.  It was quite spacious if he remembered correctly, but it seemed a lot larger than it initially was since a lot of the equipment and beds were spread out horizontally from both ends. Either that, or his memory was starting to fail him, which he logically assumed was not the case.

Sucking in another lung full of nicotine, he exhaled with a small glare towards the doors. "I must be a bloody loon. I'd rather be lifeless than be caught dead in here..." he muttered heatedly to himself, shoving the lighter back into his pocket then turning swiftly on his heel, opting to saunter to the nearest exit to get some well-needed fresh air. He took another long drag of his cig and blew some of it out of his nose, frown slithering back into its familiar place.

He'd have to be dying if he was going to go there voluntarily. Just the memory of how impotent and weak he was the last time he had been dragged in there... It clouded his resolve for weeks. He felt helpless - a feeling he'd rather forget altogether. Before the accident happened, he was one of the figures that many of the younger mutants looked up to. He was resolute; determined, adamant, and he was never really willing to give up. He was usually seen in high spirits, often having a laugh or playing a practical joke or two, and to most it was quite a relief that there was someone like him available to brighten everybody's days up.

It certainly fell heavily on them when they realized he wasn't, and probably never would be, the same bushy-browed boy again. After Allistor had gotten his first taste of just how appalling the real world could be, he couldn't uphold his reputation as the well-liked mutant for much longer. Instead of reverting back to his carefree self, he developed violent tendencies. Very violent tendencies. And he was ashamed.

Even now, years later, he could clearly remember just how destructive he was, how negative he was... And the more he thought about it, it became easier for him to understand why people always tried to keep a fair distance from him. It was easier for him to just accept that nothing ever remained the same; in the end, everything just fades away into a dull, decaying mess, with nothing but its outer shell to remind you of what has been lost.

Allistor closed his eyes and smiled bitterly. Since when was he the type to get so worked up over small things? He'd be damned if anyone caught him acting the way he was now, and he certainly wasn't so pathetic that he felt sorry for himself. He deserved everything that came his way; good or bad. His headache, which had thankfully simmered down during his inner monologue, suddenly came back full force.

With a slightly shakier step than before--and a now pained expression--, Allistor carried on making his way down the hall towards where the main entrance was. It wasn't too late, so nobody would stop him if they saw him. With a flick of his hand, he threw the now-useless cigarette on the floor in the hallway and stepped on it with the heel of his shoe, extinguishing what little heat it was able to hold after the continuous drags. Not particularly caring about the mess that he was leaving behind in the hall, he picked up in pace and strode out of the hall, hands in his pockets. _Maybe a drop by Matthew's later wouldn't hurt._


	5. Matthew

Matthew winced, straining to keep up the barrier up under the nearly constant barrage of bullets that the government agents were firing in his direction. If he hadn’t had to ‘teleport’ himself and Gilbert to where they were now, keeping up the telekinetic construct wouldn’t have been so difficult, but as it was, the blonde was already feeling the effects of mental and physical exhaustion that were beginning to hinder his progress and slow his movements. Panting slightly, he noticed from the corner of his eye that Gilbert was able to get the mutant out of the van safely…for the most part, apart from dropping him.

Matthew rolled his eyes slightly, but the moment that the pair was safely hidden behind the fruit stand, he allowed the large telekinetic construct to disappear. A hiss of pain slid through his teeth when he realized his mistake of dropping the whole construct as a bullet grazed against his temple and several more whizzed dangerously close to his body, so close that he could feel the heat from their path. Focusing on the task at hand, Matthew glared at the approaching agents, flicking the bullets out of the way whenever they’d get close to hitting him. However, having all of his attention focused on the men in front of him and beginning to feel fatigued, the telekinetic neglected to notice that one of the agents Gilbert had knocked out had regained consciousness and was making his way toward the blonde.

It wasn’t until Matthew had received a sharp kick between his shoulder blades and was sent sprawling to the ground that he even registered that the agent had even awoken. His breath was forcibly knocked out of him upon receiving a sharp kick to the chest which was followed by several to his gut. The blonde curled in on himself slightly, coughing as he spat out a small amount of blood, part of it running down his chin as he opened his eyes that he didn’t remember closing, glaring up at the agents that now surrounded him in a circle, their guns aimed at him.

The telekinetic's eyes darkened as memories from close to a century prior began to flood his mind, an uncharacteristic smirk eventually spreading across his face as he stared unseeingly up at the men surrounding him, a low chuckle escaping from his parted, blood-stained lips. One of the agents used the butt of the gun to strike the blonde across his face, breaking the skin and causing droplets of blood to roll down his face, having to close one of his eyes to prevent the crimson liquid to enter his eye. “Now you’ve really gone and pissed me off, eh… You damn hosers just never learn, _do you_?” he muttered in a deathly calm and quiet tone.

Overhead, thunder began to rumble, signifying a brewing storm as the first few raindrops fell from the sky, splattering on the road. Before any of the agents had time to react, the telekinetic produced a small shockwave, forcing the hostile men backwards and allowing Matthew to pull himself to his feet, grunting slightly from the effort. His smirk widening, he let out a dark laugh, the air around his right hand sparking and crackling slightly as pure telekinetic energy began to extend from his palm before consolidating into the solid form of a glowing dark violet sword. The blonde’s eye began to twitch, letting out a short bark of laughter when he saw the men still pointing their guns at him. “Insolent fools,” he muttered as the rain began falling in thick sheets around them, making the night seem much darker than previously. The only visible light coming from Matthew’s sword. “I cannot forgive you for what you have done. So for that…you must die…”

Using his telekinetic powers to sense the locations of the eight men, he concentrated some of his power in his feet, allowing him to move quickly in dispatching the first four, hot blood seeping down along the hilt of his sword and through his fingers. Once the remaining four gathered enough sense to be able to move, they resumed firing multiple additional bullets at the blonde, one of them hitting its mark and burying itself into Matthew’s thigh, though it didn’t appear to faze him in the slightest, while others grazed against his arms and face.

It was only within another few moments that the final four agents’ bodies dropped to the ground, each resulting in a dull thud when they landed. The Canadian blinked the rain out of his eyes, grimacing slightly as he glanced around, using the light from the now-flickering sword to check his increasingly darkening surroundings. Swallowing, he lowered his eyes to the blood-stained sword in his hand, looking at his reflection in the flickering energy which was just as blood-stained as the sword in his hand. He choked back the small sob that threatened to spill from his lips; he was used to death. Death was a normal occurrence when you’re stuck as an immortal being. That didn’t mean he enjoyed killing though, or that he’d ever become used to it, despite the wars and situations that he’d been forced into so that he  _ had _ to kill.

His hands shook as he dropped the sword, allowing to dissolve and return to its purest state of energy before it had a chance to hit the rain and blood-soaked ground. Taking a deep breath and bracing himself, he walked over to the fruit stand that Gilbert and the young blonde-haired mutant had hidden behind earlier, forcing himself to hide the limp that threatened to reveal itself as he walked. Swiping some of his wet hair that had been plastered to his face by the rain behind his ear, Matthew took in a sharp breath, tapping on the wood of the fruit stand. “Gil…it’s…safe to come out now…” he murmured, struggling to make himself heard over the torrent of rain, forcing one eye to remain closed as blood continued to pour from the wound above it.

As the moon broke through the clouds, Matthew couldn’t help but to suck in a surprised gasp through his nose as he saw the mutant that they had just rescued, almost feeling his heart break all over again as the memories threatened to take over his mind.

_ That’s… He looks… Non… Th-there’s no way… Mon dieu… _

Clearing his throat, he muttered, “L-Let’s just go, eh?” Taking one more look at the young male, thankful for the rain that helped hide the tears that were slowly spilling from his eyes, Matthew bent down, lifting the unconscious blonde bridal-style from off of Gilbert’s back with the help of his telekinesis. Placing one hand on the scruff of Gilbert’s tiger form and gripping it firmly, he closed both of his eyes, checking how much energy he had left that he’d be able to use before blacking out, and upon assessing that he had enough to teleport the three of them safely, the violet-eyed male concentrated on the location of the front gate of the Academy, keeping a tight grip on both Gilbert and the boy before portaling to the designated location a couple meters in front of the wrought-iron that separated the Academy grounds from the outside world.

Given, the multiple acres were surrounded by a densely forested area, but that only added to the seclusion and protection that the Academy offered for the residents. Having enough sense to place a thin telekinetic layer of energy over the unconscious male in his arms to keep him from becoming further soaked by the rain storm that was occurring even here, Matthew let go of Gilbert’s scruff, flicking his wrist to cause the gate to creak open before trudging forward through the rain and down the hundred meter dirt path that would lead to the front of the main building of the Academy.

The Canadian ignored any forms of protest that the albino may have uttered, gritting his teeth to hold back the hiss of pain that threatened to escape as his limp became more prominent with every step. As they reached the entrance to the front hall, completely drenched from their trek, Matthew spotted a familiar head of red out of the corner of his good eye.  _ Allistor… _

Shaking his head slightly, the blonde continued inside the building without missing a step, immediately heading in the direction of the infirmary, trailing water along the floor. Ignoring the stares of the few people that he passed, he realized that he probably looked like a wreck, completely saturated by rain, covered with blood, limping, and carrying an unconscious blonde in his arms. Luckily, everybody was smart enough to stay away from the blonde Canadian, because frankly, he was nearly certain that he’d end up snapping again if anyone attempted to touch him. He already had eight deaths on his hands from tonight, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep himself together for much longer in order to keep from hurting anybody else.

Nudging the door to the infirmary open with his bad leg, he entered the room, going over to one of the beds and laying the blonde on top of it, unlocking and removing the cuffs with his telekinesis. Once one of the medical personnel entered the room and began looking over the unconscious male, Matthew quickly exited the infirmary, his body trembling from the effort of walking as he made his way to the elevator that would lead to where his office was on the fourth floor of the building. Rubbing his eye as he stepped through his office doorway, he hobbled over to his chair before collapsing into it, too tired and emotionally distraught to bother with trying to clean the blood off of himself, change clothes, or really anything at the moment, seeing as he was close to complete physical exhaustion and was possibly mere moments away from blacking out from the amount of telekinetic energy he had expended.

If it hadn’t been such a sudden, abrupt mission and if he hadn’t spent so much energy during his training just a few hours prior, then the Canadian wouldn’t likely be in the state that he was in. Letting out a deep breath, Matthew let his open eye slide closed, trying to preserve as much of the remaining energy. As it was though, the blonde was an absolute wreck, and it seemed as though his past was coming to haunt him yet again.

_ Why does he look so much like Hazel…? _


	6. Arthur

Groggily, Arthur screwed his eyes tight before opening them up to a strange and unfamiliar room. The softness beneath him was unusually comforting, but before he could relish in the warmth, there it was again. A dull, numb ache that spread from his chest and ended, tingling at the tips of his toes and fingertips – it had always been there.

Sometimes it would turn into actual, legitimate pain, when he was angry or sad or even showed any kind of emotion, but most of the time it was just there, and that’s what he hated about it the most. The constant, lingering feeling of nothing.

His fingers twitched, and slowly he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily on his elbows. The room, wherever it was, was huge. He was laying in one of the many plain white beds, although unlike hospital sheets, they weren’t horrible and scratchy, and they didn’t feel suffocating like most hospital beds did.

His cuffs, after sudden realisation, he saw had been removed. The blond lifted his wrists up to his face and rolled them around, noticing how there was a thin, pink line running all the way around both of his wrists. Those handcuffs must’ve been really tight. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, falling back onto the pillow and taking to staring back up at the ceiling. God, he felt as if he’d been dropped on his head or something.

Kicking off the covers, he once again sat up, glancing around curiously. There… was nobody there. If it were a hospital, shouldn’t there be a nurse or two in the room? Or other patients, perhaps? Chewing at his lip anxiously, the Brit slid off the bed, shuddering at the slight chill the room held.

Maybe he should just… look around? It wasn’t as if there were people to tell him off for it, right? A strange feeling of excitement began to flutter in his stomach. It was like… like an adventure! Granted, that sounded a tad childish, but he’d never been allowed anywhere back at the orphanage; apart from, of course, the bathroom, the dining room, and his own room. And the living room, but he was never one for socialising.

A small smile played at his lips as he began to pad across the floor, grasping the door handle as if it was the most exciting thing in the world, opening the door and coming face to face with… A wall. “That was,” he mumbled, “anticlimactic.” He was expecting… Well, he wasn’t sure, but a plain wall certainly wasn’t whatever he was expecting. Still, he shut the door behind him and hurried down the hall and a flight of stairs, before finding himself at what he assumed to be the building's entrance.

Before he even got down the stairs he could feel wind whipping around his ankles. The door rattled loudly against its hinges, and Arthur, for a moment, was certain they were about to be ripped out of the wall. The gust of wind passed, though, and the door remained intact. Hesitantly the Brit continued on, pressing his palms against the door, pushing it open.

He was greeted by a cold blast of rain, which made him flinch back for a moment until the gust died down. He wrinkled his nose, squinting so it was easier to see through the rain, and stepped out into the cold night air. Maybe this was a bad idea, he thought – but then again, he didn’t even know where he was, let alone how to get back to the room he’d woken up in.


End file.
